Where I Belong
by Jukebox Junker
Summary: Fluffy Brittana story. Set before the most recent Sectionals. Mentions of Faberry & Bartie. Rated T for Santana's foul mouth.


**A/N: So, I've been missing Brittana a lot and I know, I know: I'm slacking on my Faberry story... I will do my best to get a new chapter for it up soon! However, I had an idea for this story and I knew it wouldn't fit into my songfic compilation of Faberry goodness. So, why not let Brittany and Santana shine a little? This is set the day of Sectionals - yes, where Santana gets her solo of **_**Valerie**_**.**

**Info: Brittana-centric; implications of Bartie and Faberry.**

**Disclaimer: I don't own Glee or its characters.**

**Inspiration: Truly, Madly, Deeply - Cascada (cover of Savage Garden)**

_Where I Belong_

"B, that _does not_ go there..."

"Please don't call me that," The blonde confessed quietly to Artie, as she helped him clean up his room, which was usually immaculate. But from their little romp around, she kind of got a little crazy and a few things fell over and whatnot.

"Why not?" He asked hesitantly, directing her to place the cup of his pens and pencils next to the electric pencil sharpener on his desk.

"That's what Santana calls me. Only she can call me that," Brittany whispered. She moved away from Artie's desk with him and sat on the edge of his bed. He turned around and wheeled over to her, parking right in front of her.

He was such a good boyfriend to her. He was sweet and caring, and protective. Plus, she got to push him around at school. That was her favorite part of it all. He wasn't a robot after all. He was a real person, he just had a bad accident and now he wasn't allowed to walk because the little people that lived in his legs weren't getting paid. It made sense to her. She was happy her leg people still worked.

"Brittany, you have to resolve your problems with Santana sometime." Artie confessed. He knew the two girls were on better terms after their brief fall out, but he knew that there was also tension between them, too.

"No. I can't do that." The dancer whispered, shaking her head. Her tall Cheerios pony tail swayed delicately as she shook her head. Just as she was going to speak again, she felt her cell phone vibrate against her hip. She slipped it out of her little pocket, on the interior of her Cheerios skirt and slid it open.

"And why not?" He asked quietly, reaching to touch her face but she shied away. "Come on, Brittany," Artie soothed. "Why can't you fix things with Santana?"

"Because she doesn't want you to be my boyfriend..."

–

"You're moping."

"Yeah, well..." Santana mumbled to the blonde beside her. She shrugged weakly and leaned back against the passenger seat of the other's red car. Dark brown eyes closed and a small smirk painted against her lips. "So what's up with you and the midget?"

"There is nothing going on with Rachel and I." The newly reinstated head Cheerio snapped at her occasional best friend. Occasional, because they had their spats, but through and through, they were always going to be friends. Like sisters, in a weird and twisted way; sisters that constantly felt the need to one-up each other and get ahead in this competitive game called life.

"Uh huh, sure there isn't..." Santana just opened her eyes to roll them before letting her dark brown optics slide shut. Her mind was clearly elsewhere right now and she didn't really want to change where it was.

"Are you going to tell me why you're moping?" There was no response from Santana, just a serene silence. "It's about Brittany, isn't it.."

Her defenses shot up and her eyes opened quickly. Her back stiffened and she swallowed hard. "What? Psh, fuck her."

"Santana," The blonde heeded quietly. She had her hand poised over the keys that were pressed into the ignition, but of course, she wasn't going to leave the safety of her car to face the wind outside. They had been at the mall for several hours, just killing time before they were due back at school to leave for Sectionals. "You have to tell her sometime, you know."

"No, I don't. I don't have to tell her anything." Reaching over, she turned Quinn's keys in the ignition, letting the car kick over, but Quinn quickly turned the key back to turn the car off.

"You're telling her tonight, whether you like it or not." She snapped. "I am sick and tired of you moping about and putting up your damn front around her. And as your best friend, I will not let you sit around and lose the one person that I know you really care about."

Santana was just... just baffled at Quinn's attitude. However reluctant she was, she nodded slowly and just crossed her arms over her chest after clicking on her seat belt.

–

The next few hours, Quinn insisted on helping Santana figure out just what she was going to say to Brittany. It was to the point where they had drawn up referencing index cards for the Latina. And it was scary how much it seemed like Rachel had rubbed off on Quinn, the organization skills anyway.

"Quinn, this is fucking insane," She muttered, sifting through the small stack of index cards that she was holding. "Britt isn't gonna wanna hear me rant on about Shakespeare or whatever... She doesn't even know who he is..."

"It doesn't matter if Brittany knows who he is. You need to woo her," Santana gave the head Cheerio a puzzled look. "Win her over. Get her away from Artie and back in your bed."

"Right," The brunette muttered. She was about to make a harsh comment, something revolving around Rachel and her short stature, but Quinn's ringing cell phone distracted her. The look that spread across Quinn's face was almost priceless. She had seen that look before... when the Cheerio used to date Finn and he would send her a cutesy text message.

"Just a sec," She informed quietly, picking up her cell phone. A wide grin plastered against her face and she turned slightly away from Santana, but seemed to forget that her cell phone had been on speaker from the last conversation she held.

"Hi baby," Rachel cooed into the phone, clearly sounding delightful. Quinn's face reddened deeply and she scrambled to take her phone off of speaker.

"I knew it!" Santana stood up, pointing at the blonde in the room from her seat on the floor of Quinn's bedroom. "I _knew_ you two were fucking!"

"We're not sleeping together, Santana..." The blonde hissed back at her and Santana just crossed her arms over her chest and smirked in a triumphant manner. "Rach, no.. you can't come over right now. I'm trying to... yes, I'm helping Santana." On the other end of the phone, Santana could barely make out just what Rachel was saying, but she heard her voice and it was kind of making her cringe a little. She didn't know how Quinn could put up with Rachel for very long, but there clearly had to be something. Before she could analyze the situation more, the head Cheerio had hung up her cell phone and was returning her attention to Santana.

"So, what was that all about?" She smirked, sifting through the index cards before deciding to spread them out over the floor.

"She wanted to come over and..." Quinn blinked. "Never mind what Rachel was talking about. We still need a plan for you to..."

"To what? I don't need a plan, Q. I'm capable of getting Brittany back on my own." She rolled her eyes and shifted to sit on the edge of Quinn's made bed, then leaned back against it. She threaded her fingers together and placed her hands over her stomach, staring up at the blank white ceiling before heaving a deep sigh. A veil of silenced stretched between them as Quinn gathered up the note cards that she had shared with Santana. In actuality, they were her notes from the oral presentation she had to give on Shakespeare and she happened to focus on Romeo and Juliet quite a lot. It was one of her favorite plays; she had stupidly let that slip to Rachel in one of their phone conversations and now the brunette would quote the play when she wanted to hear her favorite Cheerio swoon, either over the phone or in person.

However, Santana unfolded her hands from over her stomach and sat up, her eyes focusing on Quinn. "What if Britt doesn't take me back..." She whispered, almost sadly. She tilted her head back a little, tears having glazed over her eyes at the thought, and the last thing she wanted was for Quinn to see her feeling so vulnerable right now.

A smile spread across the blonde's face and she tucked some hair behind her ear, pulling a green rubber band around her index cards. "That's not something you have to worry about."

"It's not?" Santana questioned, blinking harshly to make her tears subside.

–

"Thank you for driving me home, Mrs. Artie's mom." The bubbly Cheerio beamed to her, now, ex-boyfriend's mother. The break up between Artie and Brittany wasn't a sour one. He had drawn the truth out of her and she admitted to having feelings for Santana, and that she wanted their friendship, at least, back in her life. But she didn't know how that was going to work if she didn't know what to say to her.

"You're welcome, Brittany. But please, call me Denise." Artie's mother insisted. She wasn't aware of their break up, since the wheelchair bound teenager and the dancer decided to stay friends. Artie was also going to help Brittany with some of her schoolwork, because her grades weren't the hottest. In return, she agreed to spend time with him outside of school and come over for dinner often. His parents loved having her around; she lifted everyone's spirits.

Leaning over in the back seat, she kissed Artie's cheek and hugged his shoulders. "You're my favorite boy in Glee club. Don't tell Kurt, though."

Artie gave a light smile and nodded silently. Even though Kurt had become part of the Dalton Academy Warblers, he was always going to be a part of their Glee club to Brittany, he realized, and he was okay with her thinking like that. He didn't want to be the one to take the childhood mysteries out of her life. Some people needed to understand everything in life. But Brittany? She didn't need an explanation for everything. In the short period they were dating, he realized that she sought the simpler pleasures in life, and that was such an incredible outlook to have on life. Complicated things were just... _too complicated_.

Brittany took her backpack and walked to her front door, cutely waving to Artie's mom and Artie as they drove away in their silver mini van. She unlocked her front door with the number password, because her parents knew that she would remember her birthday and not have to worry about repeatedly losing a house key.

She dropped her backpack by the door and made her way into the living room. She was home alone and boredom was getting to her quickly. So she did something that she really loved to do when she was home alone: she followed the written instructions, from Santana, and turned on the television and the Wii, setting it up so that she could play Dance Dance Revolution. It was her favorite game in the entire world.

After about twenty five minutes and ten songs on heavy, she almost slipped on the mat she was dancing on when the door bell sounded in the house. Cautiously, she paused the song and ran to the front door. Looking out the peep hole, she swallowed hard and hesitantly opened the door.

Santana stood on the front steps of Brittany's house, in her Cheerios uniform - the blonde was still in hers, too - and her arms from crossed over her chest, her head slightly bowed. She wasn't smiling but she wasn't frowning either. The dancer pulled the door open slowly and poked her head outside.

"Santana," She spoke in a soft monotone, blue eyes blinking curiously. "Why are you here?"

"Can I come in?" Santana asked as she lifted her head.

"N-no. I'm not allowed to have strangers in my house when my mommy isn't home." The blonde replied, ready to shut the door, but Santana firmly pressed her palm against the door.

"B, I'm not a stranger." She retorted firmly. She slid her hand on the door to brush her fingertips against the fingers of Brittany's that were curled around the door, and she watched those bright blue eyes sparkle with a flicker of hope to rekindle their friendship, possibly more.

"I know," Brittany whispered, pulling the door open and allowing Santana to come inside. Once she was in, the blonde closed the door and offered her pinkie finger to her best friend.

Santana shook her head gently to the taller girl and Brittany tilted her head slightly to the side, clearly confused. Then a frown painted Brittany's features and she bowed her head. She felt as if she wasn't good enough for Santana or something, and now she just wanted to cry.

Brittany didn't seem to notice Santana slipping to stand in front of her until she felt fingers under her chin and felt lips press gently against hers. It was just a timid peck, but it meant everything to Brittany. It made her frown instantly turn into a grin.

"Why did you do that?" She whispered, keeping her eyes on Santana's brown ones as the Latina snaked her arm around her neck and curled her fingers around the blonde pony tail.

"Because I wanted to. Do I need a reason to kiss my best friend?" Santana asked quietly, moving Brittany's arms around her waist and bringing their bodies close. Brittany laced her fingers together over the small of Santana's back and honestly, neither of them seemed very phased by it.

But on the inside? They were both insanely nervous and just waiting for the other one to make a move. It was the epitome of teenage hormones at their best.

"I'm sorry."

"Kiss me again."

They spoke in unison, Santana apologizing and Brittany requesting more affection. The shorter of the two settled her fingertips against the back of Brittany's neck and simply leaned their foreheads together, allowing her eyes to close. But they didn't kiss. Every time Brittany tried to lean the extra fraction of an inch, Santana would softly giggle at her and shift her lips just out of the dancer's reach.

"San," She whined quietly. "I want a kiss."

"I can't kiss you again. You're with Artie." She had to bite back the bitterness in her tone, because this was a good moment for them. They was _good_ and she didn't want to fuck it up.

"No I'm not," Santana's brown eyes blinked open and she was met with sparkling blue eyes staring intently back at her. She was almost dizzy from how closely they were looking at each other. "He tried to call me B."

"He can call you B if he wants," She shrugged weakly.

"No he can't. That's your nickname only," When Brittany shifted a little while speaking, she managed to delicately brush her lips against Santana's, only to have her friend pull away the small fraction and keep their foreheads together.

She was finally realizing just what Quinn meant on the drive over here, when she told Santana that a relationship didn't just have to be physical for their to be fireworks. Just standing close to Brittany was giving her the biggest rush she had in a long while.

"I _finally_ know where I belong," Santana muttered under her breath, taking her hands from behind Brittany's neck and gripping her shoulders for a moment. Brittany just gave her a puzzled look and Santana smirked. "Something Quinn said..."

"Oh," The dancer mumbled, keeping her arms around Santana's waist. "Can I have a kiss now?"

"You can have anything you want, B." Santana grinned and cupped the other girl's face in her hands, pulling her in for a heated kiss.


End file.
